


The White Wolf

by Of_Swords_and_Crowns



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Everyone is Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26419969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Swords_and_Crowns/pseuds/Of_Swords_and_Crowns
Summary: I'm Chaotic-fae-queen on Tumblr, come and say hi!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	The White Wolf

The White Wolf was the only one left. One by one all those he held dear had abandoned him. Losing Jaskier had almost destroyed him. But he promised the bard that he would continue to live, to save people and so he did. It happened on a summer’s day, just the two of them. As Jaskier’s heartbeat shuddered, Geralt talked of their adventures, their life. He sang the songs that only Geralt had heard. And Jaskier died in his arms. 

Vesmir was the next to go. Geralt wasn’t there to help. A local village was having griffin trouble and Vesmir rushed to help but he didn’t make it back to Kaer Morhen. Geralt smiled at the memory of him. When he and his brothers would get into mischief and Vesmir would pretend to be annoyed but often he was quite proud. He was their teacher, for a lot of them, a father. 

News reached them of Eskel just before winter. The contract was for a single Bruxa but soon he was overrun by a swarm of them. The village found what was left of his body and so re-posted the contract. Geralt and Lambert finished the job but Eskel was dead. They gave him a Witcher funeral. The four of them grieving for a brother lost. 

Yennifer wanted it all. The power, the love, the child but it wasn’t possible. A portal opened and she collapsed into Geralt’s arms. An ex-lover returned to take revenge and was armed with the power to render Yennifer’s magic useless. She had an ounce of magic stored in her necklace but it wasn’t enough to save herself. And so a second love of Geralt’s died in his arms. The smell of lilac of gooseberries lingered in the air and does still. 

Lambert had a biting tongue and often hunted relatively benign monsters for those who hated Witchers. What was meant to be a simple contract turned sour when the people refused to pay. Lambert must have said something that rubbed them the wrong way because when Geralt next passed that village, Lambert was strung up, swaying in the breeze. Another brother lost. Geralt waited until the dead of night before cutting him lose. Roach carried them both back to Kaer Morhen. It was the last journey she made. 

Geralt didn’t expect to lose Ciri. The daughter he raised, with a little help. He had watched her grow up so fast. Taking on her own contracts and living her own adventures. In time she turned into a wisp of a memory. Her wolf medallion joining the others with Jaskier’s lute. The only thing he allowed himself to cling to.

Geralt was the last. He seldom left Kaer Morhen. Preferring the company of ghosts as opposed to the outside world. Old age didn’t agree with him but he was tired of living. No one was left except for the memories in his head. Sitting in the common room of Kaer Morhen, alone with the ghosts of the past and Jaskier’s lute, Geralt waited for the end. As the sun rose over Kaer Morhen, the keep was as silent as the grave. Not a soul was left and only the ballads remained. The whispers of a time long past and eventually they became ghost stories, fables, forgotten. 

If you wander up to the deserted keep, you can almost hear the melody of a lute, the laugh of children and the smell of lilacs and gooseberries. Only the ballads remain. The great tales of the White Wolf and his bard. The tales that everyone now assume to be simply stories. The Witchers rid the world of monsters and the people rid themselves of Witchers. Preferring to forget than to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Chaotic-fae-queen on Tumblr, come and say hi!


End file.
